The Three Samurai
by Hopeakaarme
Summary: Ryoma always knew Ryoga wasn't just his adopted brother. What he didn't know was that the Samurai Juniors were actually a set of three. Crack, implied shounenai AkuDan surprise...


Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Nothing elaborate or even very good -- just a little cracklet featuring my favourite crack theory.

* * *

The Three Samurais  


* * *

"Now, I understand that the loss has been tremendous to you –"

Ryoga snorted a bit, gaining a glare from Ryoma. He knew his adopted brother wasn't one for showing any such feelings, and he wasn't entirely sure about whether Ryoga did feel anything at their father's passing, but he could have at least pretended for their mother's sake. She was currently crying, trying in vain to dry her tears with a handkerchief.

"—But there are things that must be taken care of. For one, late Echizen-san's rather notable wealth. As you probably are well aware, you are all beneficiaries in his will, as is only natural, given your familial relations. There are also a few other people he left varying sums to, all listed on this paper." The lawyer pushed a sheet of paper over the desk with some names and sums listed. Ryoma took it, given that his mother did not seem able to and Ryoga was still acting like he had no interest in anything that was going on. Scanning over the list, he found nothing too surprising.

"However, there is one other detail I must bring to your attention." The lawyer's tone made even Ryoga look at him. "I do not know whether any of you were aware of this, but for close to fifteen years now, each month a significant sum of money has been transferred from Echizen-san's account to another. The person receiving this money has also been named as one of the main beneficiaries."

"You've got to be kidding me," Ryoga spat – the first words he had uttered during the entire meeting. Everyone turned to look at him, seeing the earlier indifference replaced with something like shock. "The old man sent me money before my mother finally pestered him into adopting me. Are you telling us he's got another bastard out there?"

Their mother's face went just a tad paler than before. The lawyer, while suitably unsettled, remained mainly calm as he said, "While I would not have used such words myself, that is the heart of the matter, yes. Echizen Nanjirou indeed had another biological son who is to inherit exactly as great an amount as the other two, which would be you."

"Now, wait a minute," Ryoma said. "You said this's been going on for fifteen years, correct? Exactly how old is this brother of ours?"

The lawyer adjusted his glasses, giving their mother an apologetic glance over them before saying, "Two months younger than yourself, I'm afraid."

Closing his eyes as his mother started crying even more, Ryoma muttered a curse under his breath. Never mind Ryoga, whose birth predated his parents' wedding; he should have known his idiotic father would have an illegitimate child while already married. "And who is it?" he then asked.

"Someone I believe you have already met." Again, the serious glance over his glasses. "A middle school tennis player by the name of Dan Taichi." 

* * *

A ball flew across the screen of the TV set. A sharp set of eyes watched the recording, paying close attention to the person on the screen. The observer sought for familiar movements, habits, for anything that would signal similarity to someone else he knew well. After a moment, he leant back. "I think I see it," he said.

"That's only a video, though," Ryoma said. "I've played against him, several times, and thinking back it's a wonder I never saw it. Did you know that just a few years ago, he had never lifted a racquet?"

Ryoga raised an eyebrow. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Sadly, I'm not." Ryoma nodded towards the TV. "That's what he's come to after roughly two years of playing. His serve hasn't been broken for a full year now. The only way to win him is to make him run out of stamina."

"Exceptional, then. As expected of our little brother." Ryoga glanced at his brother. "You going to play against him anytime soon, Chibi-Suke?"

"We'll probably go against them in the Nationals. Unless one of the teams gets three wins first, it's me against him, again." Ryoma rolled his eyes. "And I'll win, again."

"Guess you got the best of the genes, huh?" Ryoga looked at the recording again. "You know, at least the resemblance's clear enough. The two of you would pass for twins."

"You're not the first one to say that," Ryoma replied dryly. "And that was before the senpai-tachi saw that he can do the Twist Serve and Drive B, too."

"He's cuter than you, though." Ryoga gave him a teasing grin. "Dan Taichi, hmm? I look forward to meeting him."

"Be nice when you do," the younger boy reminded him. "He's even smaller than me, yes, but he's got his personal bodyguard, also known as an overly aggressive boyfriend. Upset Dan-kun and you'll be halfway to hospital before you know it."

"Aww, you needn't worry, Chibi-suke." Ryoga ruffled his hair. "I'm a tough guy, I can take one pissed-off boyfriend any day."

Ryoma snorted. "The guy's bigger than you and a black belt in pretty much everything he's cared to try. He'd make you a dark smear on the ground before you could land a hit on him. Besides," he added, "Mum would get upset. She's already invited him over for dinner. After all, she said, it's not the kid's fault his father was a bastard."

Ryoga silently nodded. Their mother was probably the most forgiving person in the world. 

* * *

"Guess you didn't get the height genes at least, baby brother." Ryoma eyed his opponent speculatively over the net. Even as a grown man, Dan was still pitifully small, even shorter than an average Japanese woman. While Ryoma himself was no giant – a typical Japanese man, yes, but short in the middle of all the Western people – he towered easily over his half-brother.

Dan smiled, his long ponytail moving a bit as he cocked his head to the side, reminiscent of their father in the pictures Ryoma had seen from his active years. "I didn't know tennis was played with height," he said, echoing Ryoma's own words.

No, it wasn't, Ryoma silently agreed as he made to give the first serve. It was played with skill, and determination, and sometimes with a teeny tiny bit of sibling rivalry. Which would explain why, even with their various injuries and family emergencies, for the past five years there had always been at least two Samurai juniors in the world's top ten.

Dan returned the serve. The game was on. Preparing himself for the exchange of shots – 37, as he knew all too well – Ryoma was, for a brief moment, glad that his father was such a lech. After all, if it hadn't been so, tennis would have been more boring by one great opponent.

…Well, that and Ryoga and Akutsu's quarrels at the family meetings were fairly amusing.


End file.
